Good Girl

Usually a good girl
kept her mouth shut
head bent
eyes cast down
always ready to be blamed.
No one looked twice at her.
Submissive to the core.
Sold into slavery
sex trade
men
always
more and more men
telling her what to do
how to be
what role was expected from her.
Night after night
fear
pain
distress
hardening a child’s heart
until
rage
so long supressed
so long tamped down
began
to simmer
to boil
to rise.
No one foresaw
no one believed
the massive eruption
from a child so small.
With blade in hand
stealth
moving from room to room
each throat slit
a link
breaks the chain.
Finally
they were no more
she was free.
To become the monster they bred.
December 6/18
Photo by Stephany Lorena on Unsplash
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Denial

Placid.
Stagnant.
Floating upon the scum of the pond
hair streaming
no cares
no feelings
numbness
all that I need.
With nothing
there is no pain
there is no fear
there is no acknowledging that past.
With nothing
I am blurred
I am stoned
I no longer seek to understand
who I am.
Why I am.
Broken child.
Halo bent.
Satan is waiting.
A lot of learning
yet to be done.
Yearning.
Please understand.
I hate myself.
I love myself.
I speak in tongues.
There is no real happiness
no reality
for denial is one.
Oct. 34/18
Photo by Velizar Ivanov on Unsplash

20/20

Looking back
it is easy to see
as they say
hindsight is 20/20.
I delighted in fire
flame
burning debris
still wonder
how I did not burn that place down?
Vicious words
pelting down
tearing
rending
piercing
exposed flesh.
I need time
time to adjust
to come to terms
with yet another aspect
of my past
my history.
Rage
inferior
tagged to be little
never was I important enough.
Looking back
I can finally see
veil torn from my eyes
the monster before me.
There was no love.
There was no pride in me.
I was superfluous
an afterthought
a child weaned on fear
disgrace
disregard
left to herself
her own care.
Heart torn
rent
beaten flat
left to defend
shield
armor myself
for yet another blow
another hit
another hurricane
blowing me apart.
Sept. 25/18

Boogeyman

His shadow spreads
over bitter walls
skeletal fingers
creep along
scritching
scratching
he wants to come in.
Hidden under the covers
trying to ignore the fear
counting beneath your breath
please do not let him come near.
Each footstep
each creak of the floor
an indication that he is coming closer.
Mouth working
throat closing
your scream comes out
as a whispered no.
Terror holds you tight
an embrace you cannot escape from
the door slowly opens
as you squeeze your eyes shut.
Like a child
you are convinced
that if you cannot see him
He cannot see you.
Covers slowly pulled away
a low moaning hiss
fingers pressing
nay bruising into your flesh
as you struggle to awaken
away from this horror
towards the sunrise.
August 31/18
Picture via: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/804596289653185639/

Nonparent

You lie to me
with a straight face
not knowing that I already know
the truth has been presented
via text
bet you wish she didn’t talk to me.
I ask you
nay plead with you
to help me parent
to have my back
to help enforce bedtimes
and electronic time
only to find out
that you think I am unreasonable.
Let us call into question
the parenting style of each
and tell me true….
who is the parent?
who is the friend?
My anger is not unexpected
nor is your response
I thought you could parent
yet I find
that the will is not there.
Stuck in your head as a teenager
you cannot see the damage you have done
he will not follow your parenting style
I will see to that.
He will learn respect
he will learn responsibility
he will learn how to be an adult
with help from me.
Keep it up
I am warning you now
time will be lost
when he realizes the game you play
deciding that you are not worth the time
or energy to stay.
Disappointment oozes in his voice
his eyes shatter with tears
you really are nothing more
than a bastard……dear.
Aug. 19/18
Photo is one of my own.

T: My Dream

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she falls in love.
Not with her husband
not with her boyfriend
but with her child.
When they come from within
and are laid on her tummy mewling
she welcomes them to the world.
Once I thought it would not happen
once I thought my time had passed
that a child would not
could not
be born of me.
Yet he came
tiny and fragile
delicate yet
and fierce to the end.
They told me not to worry
if he did not cry or scream.
I braced myself for fear
yet when they laid him upon me
he grabbed my finger and held on tight
proclaiming his appearance.
My little warrior,
the fighter that I was meant to be.
Six years later
he astounds me.
He robs me of my breath.
I watch him grow
and learn.
And damn don’t I know
that the best of me is in front of me.
My son.
My child.
My life.
My moon and stars.
The dream I thought I had missed.
Originally written August 7/14 (T’s birthday)
revised March 20/18